


Precautionary Measures

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Genosha, Handcuffed Together, M/M, Mutant Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Erik, I am under orders from your mother the queen to use whatever force necessary to make sure you attend this meeting. Do you really want to test me?”</p>
<p>OR the one where Charles handcuffs Erik to himself for safekeeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precautionary Measures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endingthemes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endingthemes/gifts).



> Happy Secret Mutant! Combining Royalty/Knight with handcuffed together.

The handcuffs start as a joke. At least Erik hopes they're a joke because it would be rather humiliating otherwise—the crown prince being held against his will by one of his sworn knights.

Not that this is against his will, exactly. The idea of Charles tying him up isn’t a new thought, and it’s certainly not a bad one. Erik may need to take some time to reevaluate his and Charles’ relationship, next time he gets a moment to himself.

Charles grabs his wrist as soon as the door closes and snaps one cuff down, nodding his head as if at a job well done. It's a slim cuff of a sturdy but completely manageable metal and Erik doesn’t want to imagine why Charles would ever own something like it at all.

“Kinky,” Erik says, because his mind has apparently lost its filter. He tries not to blush.

Giving him a halfway derisive snort, Charles says, “You wish.” (Erik really does. Shit.) “These are just to ensure that you make it to this meeting. Your mother was very concerned about your intentions.”

As well she should be. Erik harbors no fond feelings towards the Americans and he hasn’t exactly kept that a secret from anyone, especially not after his mother assigned him to attend this particular meeting. They’re supposed to make a trade deal, the first in over one-hundred years, and Erik does not trust them.

“You do realize that I can control metal, right?” Erik asks, just to make sure. It seems like a terrible oversight on Charles’ part.

Charles makes a soft sound of agreement, turning his most charming smile up at Erik. It's full of amusement. “Of course. But don't forget what I can do,” he says, tapping his forehead as a reminder. 

“You wouldn't,” Erik says. He’s sure of it. Laws about telepathic interference with free will are harsh both in Genosha and abroad and Charles has a pretty strict ethical code—he never once tried to bail them out of trouble when they were younger, no matter how Erik begged. 

Charles doesn’t even look at him as he snaps the other cuff around his own wrist. “Erik, I am under orders from your mother the queen to use whatever force necessary to make sure you attend this meeting—a meeting you know I feel is close to my own interests. Do you really want to test me?” For all his smiles, Charles’ voice is hard.

No, Erik decides. He really doesn’t want to test Charles. Not now. Not over this. (And not when Charles could figure out how Erik really feels about the cuffs with just a brush of his mind.)

“I thought not,” Charles says, sitting down at the table. Erik sits as well. His only other option would be to stand there with his arm stretched out awkwardly as they wait to be summoned.

The Americans have given him a small room in which to prepare for the meeting, complete with table, chairs, a mirror, and little else. He doesn’t mind. As much as he personally opposes this deal, he’s ready to make it. Erik understands exactly why his mother has agreed to this and as the crown prince he will do everything in his power to make sure it happens.

“You know these are unnecessary as well as useless,” Erik says, dragging the chain over the edge of the desk so it rattles. 

Charles glances at him from under his lashes, somehow hopeful and unsure at once. Erik’s chest feels tight. It's suddenly very important to him that Charles understands this. He can't let Charles down.

“You're a good leader,” Charles says, placing his cuffed hand over Erik’s on the table. “I know that.”

Erik wants to respond, wants to pull Charles closer, but there's a knock on the door, sharp and loud, before it opens. Logan, one of Erik’s security guards, steps in. Charles must have summoned him with his mind.

As much as Charles takes Erik’s security to heart, it's not his job as knight to actually keep Erik physically safe. Maybe a hundred years ago, he would've done, but there's the secret service for that now. Charles’ role is simply ceremonial outside of his duties as advisor. 

Logan opens his mouth to speak, but freezes when he catches sight of the handcuffs. 

“Kinky,” he says, leaning back against the door. He really is Erik’s favorite secret serviceman.

At least he is right up until Charles says, “Really, Logan, that was one time.” That just makes Erik furious. He does not need the reminder of Charles’ and Logan’s history together. Ever.

Grinning with all of his teeth, Logan says, “One very unforgettable time.”

There’s a beeping from Charles’ phone and Erik thanks all the stars that he turns his attention there instead of responding to Logan.

“Alright,” Charles says, barely glancing up from his phone. “They'll be ready for us in fifteen minutes. Logan, if His Highness somehow manages to make it out of this room without me or the cuffs, stop him.”

Erik is mildly offended. “Logan’s skeleton is coated in metal, Charles,” he says. “Again with the oversights.”

“Don’t worry, Chuck,” Logan says, ignoring Erik entirely. “Me and Storm’ll handle him.”

“Good,” Charles says, grinning. “I’m sure that’ll deter him. He wouldn’t want to show up to this meeting after Ororo’s done with his hair.”

Erik rolls his eyes, tugging his wrist closer to his side—and Charles’ with it. “Not all of us are as concerned with our hair as you are,” he mutters.

Charles’ laugh at that makes Erik’s stomach flutter. “No, of course not,” he says brightly. “Logan here doesn’t care at all what his hair looks like. You, on the other hand—you've checked your reflection four times in the last twenty minutes.”

Rolling his eyes, Logan pushes back out of the room. Erik tries not to listen to what he’s muttering under his breath—that’s never a good idea.

There's a brief silence when the door closes before Charles sighs. “Your hair is useless even without Storm’s help,” he says, reaching out to brush at the hair on Erik’s forehead. 

Which is ridiculous. Erik’s hair was perfect the last time he checked. He doesn't say a word though, enjoying the touch of Charles’ fingers against his skin. 

“Are you ready?” Charles asks after a moment, trailing his fingers down Erik’s cheek as he pulls his hand away. 

Erik closes his eyes, visualizing the coming meeting. The American president, countless diplomats and reporters, Charles sitting at his side. He knows exactly what he wants to say, exactly where his line in the sand lies, but now that he's here, he can feel his nerves turning his stomach. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds Charles watching him, a calm smile on his lips. He finds himself smiling back. 

“Take these cuffs off and we’ll find out,” he says, lifting his hand for show. 

Chalres’ smile turns playful and he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Not yet,” he says as he stands, pulling Erik with him. 

Erik frowns, glaring down at the cuff on his wrist and fighting back the urge to rip it off with his powers. 

“You’ll make me wear it in front of the cameras?” he asks. He can imagine it now, the front pages of papers across the globe, the look on his mother’s face when she sees it, how Azazel won't let him live it down. And he finds he doesn't care—not if it’s because of Charles. 

Charles rolls his eyes and pulls Erik to the door. “Don't be ridiculous,” he says, still smiling. “I just need to make sure there's no way for you to escape.”

Logan snorts a laugh when they pass him at the door, but Storm gives a very professional nod as she steps away from the elevator to allow them access. 

“Good luck, Your Highness,” she says as the door slides shut. 

The elevator is uncomfortably quiet after that, Charles falling uncharacteristically silent. Erik can understand why, though. Today’s meeting is important, maybe more important than any other meeting he’s been to—certainly the most important Charles has ever attended. And there are a hundred ways it can go wrong.

But Erik’s ready—Charles must know that. They’ve gone over the talking points at least fifty times in the last two days, and Erik isn’t one to just throw in the towel.

Pulling at their joined wrists, Erik asks, “Are you going to take these off? Or are you going to drag me into the meeting like this?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at him, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, my friend. I have no intention of ruining your image.”

He pauses then, his smiling fading, but his eyes remain fixed on Erik. It’s an odd sensation, and Erik feels a blush creeping up his neck as the moment drags on.

“Well?” he prompts, jangling the chain. He could easily unlock the cuffs himself, but it doesn’t feel right. Besides, he’s in no hurry to leave, even if their floor is fast approaching.

Shaking his head the way he does to stay focused on the moment, Charles grins up at Erik again and digs in his pocket for the key.

“Sorry about all this, but you understand,” he says, tone light despite the significance of the moment. His hands are warm on Erik’s wrist as he turns the key to disengage the cuff. Erik shivers at the touch anyway. Charles has that effect on him.

“It’s fine,” he says, when he realizes Charles is waiting for a response instead of moving away or taking the cuff off his own wrist.

But Charles stays where he is, his fingers pressed into Erik’s skin, and turns his eyes back up to Erik. He searches Erik’s face, but for what, Erik can’t imagine. Maybe there’s something on his face, and Charles is trying to decide whether or not to let him make a fool of himself. Or maybe he’s spotted the blush that Erik can’t suppress with Charles so close. Maybe—

“For good luck,” Charles says, his voice soft and low, and he leans up to kiss him.

It’s not a long kiss—in fact, it’s barely intimate at all, but it leaves Erik dizzy. As much as he’s wanted it, Charles has never before even hinted at any feelings he might hold towards Erik. Even now, he’s not looking at him, his entire attention focused down at the cuffs as he finally takes the cuff of his own wrist and stuffs them into his pocket, out of sight.

The elevator dings to a stop and the doors slide open too quickly. There are reporters and diplomats and the President of the United States of America out there waiting for him, but Erik doesn’t care.

He kisses Charles. Reaching out to curl his fingers at his cheeks, pulling him close, he kisses him. There are cameras going off and the murmur of surprised voices, but nothing matters except the fact that Charles is smiling under his lips, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Erik’s jacket.

Too soon, Charles pulls back, grinning up at Erik, a sparkle in his eye. “You need to go, Your Highness,” he says, voice rough—and _fuck_ if Erik doesn’t want to hear more said in that tone.

Unable to keep the grin from his face, Erik steps off the elevator into the light of the the reporters’ flashing cameras. The American president is waiting, an annoyed look on his face, but none of that matters.

Charles is behind him. Charles kissed him back. Charles is pressing a warmth into his mind at this very moment, a warmth that sinks down and curls in his stomach. And Erik—Erik can take on the world.


End file.
